


You Won’t Let Me Fall

by moodwriter



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician)
Genre: Desperation, Dominance, Edgeplay, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, Intercrural Sex, Kinks, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Restraints, Submission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-15
Updated: 2013-09-15
Packaged: 2017-12-26 16:11:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/967960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moodwriter/pseuds/moodwriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tommy has trouble with… well, everything. Adam helps him out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Won’t Let Me Fall

**Author's Note:**

>   
>  Banner by me
> 
> This is a birthday gift to my dear beta, @aislinntlc. Happy birthday, sweetie. I hope you like this. The fic was betaed by the wonderful @leela_cat. Thank you so much, both of you. <3

“I can’t get it up,” Tommy slurs to Adam. He’s confessing things he shouldn’t be confessing but he’s too drunk to care. 

Adam leans against Tommy’s side, but he’s not giggling which Tommy thinks is pretty decent of him. Erection problems are giggle-worthy when you’re drunk. “You can’t get a boner?” Adam asks, his nose close to Tommy’s ear. 

They are in the common area of the tour bus. Adam’s third album made this possible for them again, and Tommy couldn’t be happier. Except, his body is not fully functional. He blames his scarring experiences with his ex-girlfriend. 

“Nope,” he says, finishing his umpteenth beer. 

Adam takes hold of the side of Tommy’s face and kisses his cheek wetly. “I love you anyway.”

They fall asleep soon after that, sprawling on top of each other, and Tommy gives no thought to his confession until one day when Adam brings it up again. 

They are somewhere in Canada. 

The gig is starting in five minutes, everyone is ready, and Adam does something terrible. He whispers, “I could help you with your little problem.” There’s a hand grabbing Tommy’s package through his pants.

The hand is gone before Tommy can say anything, but he can feel it on him all the way through the gig. He’s nowhere near hard, but he’s uncomfortable in his pants. He might have to tell Adam to back off. Then again, Adam has never been his problem. 

That night, they sit in front of the TV in Adam’s hotel room, watching one of the Miyazaki movies (Tommy thinks it’s Princess Mononoke, but he’s not entirely sure). He’s sitting between Adam and the armrest of the couch, and Adam is so, so warm. Tommy’s feet are cold, and he’s pushed them under Adam’s thigh. Adam doesn’t seem to mind. 

The longer they sit in the darkness, the closer Tommy sinks to Adam, and soon, he lulls to sleep.

Tommy wakes up, drooling on Adam’s shirt, Adam’s fingers drawing circles on his side under his shirt. He’s not sure if Adam is awake, though, so he stays quiet and tries to keep his breathing steady. His toes are still tucked under Adam’s thigh, his arm flung over Adam’s stomach.

When Adam’s hand travels over Tommy’s stomach and further up to his chest he knows Adam is awake, but Tommy doesn’t say anything. He lets Adam brush his fingers over his nipple in circles, lets him caress him because he doesn’t know how to stop it or if he even wants to stop it. It feels good. He can’t deny that. 

“Tommy…” Adam whispers, then kisses the top of his head. 

The room is still dark when Tommy opens his eyes, the TV on, showing the menu of the video. Ashley is asleep next to them, lying on her side, her hands tucked under her head.

He should get up. He should go to his room. 

Adam’s other hand captures Tommy’s chin and tilts his head up. It’s an awkward angle, but it doesn’t matter because Adam is looking at him, and there seems to be a strange new story between them. 

Adam takes Tommy’s lower lip between his teeth, holds it for a moment, then pushes Tommy up on his feet, straightens his shirt, and says, “You should go.” Adam is standing in front of him, barefoot, and Tommy has no idea what their story is about. He’s confused. 

“Go.” Adam turns him around and slaps his ass, then heads over to wake Ashley up. 

Tommy and Ashley stagger into their rooms, Ashley barely awake and Tommy too awake to fall asleep again. 

The first time Adam does something entirely inappropriate, they are in a nightclub. Tommy is alone at the far corner of the bar, nursing a whiskey. Everyone is somewhere else, and he likes it that way. 

But Adam is a pushy fucker. 

Tommy’s corner is dark, the music less crazy here, and he’s quite happy standing by the huge window that shows Toronto down below. He’s leaning against the bar with his elbows when he feels someone behind him. He knows immediately it’s Adam because he’s had Adam pressed against him a million times. 

“Are you having fun?” Adam asks, music in his blood, his movements relaxed with the rhythm. He’s shamelessly rubbing against Tommy, and Tommy might mind if he had the energy. He doesn’t. 

“Surviving,” he mutters, finishing the whiskey and ordering another one. The bartender doesn’t seem to care that Adam is all up in Tommy’s business. Nobody cares. It’s a free spirited gay bar. 

Adam puts his hand on Tommy’s hip and whispers in his ear, “Dance with me.”

“Fuck no.”

Adam laughs. “Not on the dance floor. Here, baby.”

Tommy moves his hips in the ridiculous way he knows how and earns another laugh from Adam. Then Adam’s hand moves lower, covers Tommy’s cock through his pants, and everything becomes different. At first, Adam doesn’t really move, just holds his hand there, as though asking if it’s okay, and since Tommy doesn’t stop him, he starts rubbing Tommy, his palm heavy and warm. 

Adam moves with the rhythm, his cock pressed against Tommy’s ass, and gradually, Tommy feels himself getting hard, a rush of mixed feelings from gratitude to horror spreading through him. 

He bites his lip, then takes another sip of his drink, trying to drown the voices in his head. 

Adam promised to help him, and he’s doing just that. There are no expectations, nothing Tommy has to be. All he has to do is take it, if he wants to. 

He drops his head on Adam’s shoulder, his mouth open, and Adam pushes his hand further between Tommy’s thighs, reaching his balls. Tommy spreads his legs, lets Adam squeeze him, hold him, make him achingly hard. 

“You’re just fine,” Adam whispers. “See?” He runs his hand over the length of Tommy’s cock. “Just fine.”

Tommy kisses Adam’s neck, wanting to say something but he doesn’t know what. Nothing feels adequate. 

Adam takes him down slowly, not letting him come, just holding him through the jerking of his body, keeping him close. “You’ll be fine,” Adam says. “I promise.”

He leans against Adam, breathing unsteadily, Adam drinking a green cocktail and Tommy trying not to shake too much. Adam doesn’t let go of him for a long while, his arm tight around Tommy’s waist, keeping him close.

When Adam finally steps back he makes sure that Tommy can stand, then he takes Tommy’s hand and leads him back to their group. 

The night is less gloomy after that.

Tommy feels like Adam’s pet project as the tour continues. Adam pulls him near all the time, touches him constantly, helps him up or down high places, offers him things, and Adam seems to be unaware of what he’s doing. He just adopts Tommy, like he’s a stray puppy. 

He’s always been in Adam’s pocket. Adam has always owned him in ways he lets nobody else own him. But for some reason this is different. 

And since Adam gives him a lot of attention he’s kind of basking in it. Like right now, when they are in a tiny restaurant, and Tommy is leaning close to Adam, touching his knee under the table, whispering something in his ear just because he can, and it seems to make Adam crazy. 

Tommy doesn’t realize how crazy until he goes to the bathroom, and soon after, Adam follows him there. Tommy is washing his hands when Adam quickly opens the door and locks it behind him. 

Tommy looks at Adam, looks into his eyes, confused and scared and aroused, and says, “Someone else might need--” 

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence because Adam steps behind him and puts a hand over his mouth. “Don’t make a sound, okay?”

They look at each other in the mirror, and when Tommy nods, Adam opens the button of Tommy’s jeans, slowly, giving Tommy time to stop him. He doesn’t. He won’t. Maybe because he’s getting addicted, and Adam knows it. 

Adam pulls the zipper down, then shoves his hand into Tommy’s pants, squeezing him, the length of his cock, then his balls. It’s a merciless touch because Adam is using force, keeping Tommy’s groan muffled with his left hand while he rubs his right hand all over Tommy’s sensitive parts, including his inner thighs and perineum, and even pushing one finger against his hole. Adam is being thorough and quick, making Tommy pant with a few brushes of his fingers. Then Adam pushes Tommy’s briefs down enough to get him out, to get Tommy’s cock in his hand, and Tommy looks down, his eyes going wide. Adam’s hand looks huge around him even though he’s not small, even though he’s already hard, heavy with blood, leaking. 

He squirms in Adam’s hold, surprised by how much this makes him feel, how entirely unprepared he is, and he bites Adam’s fingers, trying to hold back the moan, maybe even a scream. He wants to be loud, and he’s usually so fucking quiet. 

Adam’s hand is different from his own. It moves differently. The hold is stronger, more relentless, and Adam is giving him no choice but to take it. 

“Don’t come,” Adam whispers, and Tommy whines around Adam’s fingers, the ones he’s pushed into his mouth. He tries, but Adam is not making it easy. It’s absurd that he should even try, but he doesn’t want to disappoint Adam. 

Tommy pushes back, his hands against the sink, his eyes half-closed, and Adam thrusts against him, showing how much it affects him, too. “Hold back, baby,” Adam whispers in his ear. “You’re doing so well. You’re so hard for me.”

Tommy bites Adam’s fingers, and Adam lets out a startled laugh. “You’re feisty.” 

Then Adam releases Tommy’s mouth, urges his back down until he’s bent against the sink, and Adam kicks his legs apart, saying, “So pretty like this.” Adam presses himself against Tommy’s ass, both of his hands on Tommy’s waist now, his fingers digging in. “So fucking pretty.”

Tommy puts one hand against the wall, the other grabbing the sink, and he moves towards Adam, arching his back. 

Adam lets out a low groan. “Oh my god, don’t do that.” Adam pulls Tommy’s pants down a little more, baring his ass, and that’s maybe too much, but Adam’s spit-wet fingers are already there, circling his hole, pressing in just a little. 

Tommy bites his own arm. 

“Fuck, Tommy… God, I want to…” Instead of pushing a finger inside him, Adam opens his own pants, and then Tommy can feel Adam jerking off, pressing against him, between his thighs, and then Adam is thrusting against him, just under his balls, holding him so close it hurts, Adam’s fingers unforgiving against his skin. 

When Adam comes, it’s sudden and wet against Tommy’s ass and thighs, and then Adam’s fingers are on him again, spreading his come on Tommy’s skin, pushing it inside Tommy, Adam’s finger thick and warm. 

Adam lifts Tommy up a little to get a hand around his cock, and there’s that finger moving inside him, Adam’s come all around it. When Tommy’s legs start to shake, the orgasm building up, Adam moves closer, keeping Tommy upright with his own body. Tommy shoots all over the sink, Adam’s hand, even the wall, and he can’t stop shaking, not even after the last aftershock has left his body. 

He’s dead to the world, Adam holding him up, one arm around Tommy’s waist, the other stroking Tommy’s side and stomach. “So good,” Adam says softly.

It feels like Adam is praising him, and Tommy nuzzles against Adam‘s neck and cheek, wanting to let Adam know that he understands. He doesn’t know how to get down from the floaty feeling, though, so he just lets Adam hold him. 

There’s a knock on the door, and Adam looks at Tommy in the mirror, shocked and a little scared. “Oh my god…” Adam whispers, and Tommy grins. “Oh my god.” Adam takes paper towels from the holder, gets them wet and wipes Tommy clean all over, then helps him back into his pants, straightening his clothes. “Oh my fucking god,” he says again, his eyes wild, getting himself clean too, glancing at Tommy every few seconds. 

“It’s okay,” Tommy says quietly.

“No, it’s not,” Adam says, trying to get his shirt clean. “I’m… fuck… I push… I almost…”

“We gotta go.” Tommy takes Adam’s hand and pulls him towards the door, throwing the used paper towel into the trash. They are semi-clean, and Tommy wishes he had his sunglasses with him, but he has no way of covering what Adam did to him here. It’s so clear that the guy outside the door smirks at them, winking, and Tommy wants to dig a hole for himself. They are so busted. 

Fortunately their food hasn’t arrived yet and their friends don’t think they are freaks even though they disappeared for a good twenty minutes. They are used to Adam and Tommy chatting somewhere privately. That’s who they are. 

Except now, they are doing more than just chatting.

Tommy knows that what’s happening between them isn’t totally okay. He just doesn’t want to think about it. His body is working again; it’s responding to touch. So that’s better than nothing. He still doesn’t jerk off, but who cares since he’s getting some anyway. He’s pretty much a monk when Adam isn’t around. 

They do gig after gig, and Tommy is mixing up cities like all those cool rockstars he followed when he was younger. Every night, just before they go on stage, Terrance whispers to him, telling him where they are, and Tommy adores him for it. 

Adam is impossible on stage. His vocals are better than ever, and they’ve been doing this for so long that Tommy’s guitar now speaks the same language as Adam’s voice, and together they create magic. Adam is all up in his personal space even more than before, and Tommy is glad he has his guitar because his tiny problem is gone now, and he’s frustratingly hard every time Adam even looks in his way. 

They play a lot, and the audience seems to love it. It’s weird to get cheered when Adam rolls his body against Tommy’s, when Adam grabs Tommy’s throat or hair, when he grinds against Tommy. Half the time, he doesn’t know what to do with the feelings Adam evokes in him. It’s not just lust. The way Adam has crawled under his skin, has made Tommy his - even though they haven’t talked about any of it - is scary as hell. 

His body obeys Adam and Adam only. It’s not responding to anyone else. 

Then one night, they’re lying on Adam’s bed, Tommy reading and Adam watching a movie. Tommy’s head is at the foot of the bed. He’s lying on his stomach, the warmth of Adam’s body next to him, and he’s completely relaxed. 

Adam’s hand is resting on Tommy’s thigh, squeezing just a little. 

They’ve been lying there for over an hour, and Tommy’s back is starting to ache, but he really loves the book (Hello Kitty Must Die), and doesn’t want to move. He loves these quiet moments with Adam when they are looking for nothing but each other’s company. 

Adam shifts next to him, and then Tommy feels a hand against his ass, feels it circle his cheeks, then move lower down Tommy’s thighs. 

He keeps reading for a while, letting Adam explore his body, relaxing even more under his massaging touch. 

Then Adam leans over Tommy, his face close to Tommy’s. “I want to tie you up,” Adam says, softly as though he’s talking to a wild animal. “Say no to anything, everything.” The hand that’s not supporting Adam’s weight is now under Tommy’s shirt. “I want to touch you everywhere, make you so needy you can’t do anything but feel.” Tommy spreads his legs a little when Adam pushes a hand between his thighs. “We need to talk… something… But I want to… I just want to feel you around me, your soft walls giving in. Tell me no. Say it’s too much, and I’ll stop.”

Tommy pushes his hands forward as far as they go, grabbing the metallic frame of the bed. “Tie me up,” he says, his voice softer than he expected. 

Adam kisses the side of Tommy’s head, then asks, “You sure? I’m a manipulative bastard.”

That makes him laugh. Adam is right. “You are. Doesn’t mean I don’t want to be manipulated.” He pauses. “By you.”

So maybe they are doing a little of that talking now. Part of him doesn’t want to talk about it now though, preferably never, because he wants to go through the conflict inside him. He doesn’t want balance and perfection. He wants Adam to tear him open. Break him. Hurt him. And maybe that’s what’s wrong here. 

Tommy turns to look at Adam, and their eyes lock. “I’m fucked up,” he whispers, and after a long pause, Adam nods. There’s something awful in that confession, and he doesn’t want to examine it further. “Just tie me the fuck up,” Tommy says. “Blindfold me, do whatever you want.” He wants Adam to stop looking at him and do something. He wouldn’t even mind if Adam hit him.

Adam sits up, stroking Tommy’s back for a long time, pushing the shirt up and off him, then continuing to touch him, those gentle strokes both maddening and sweet, and Tommy grits his teeth together. He’s fighting a sigh, the way his body wants to relax and let go. He fears the thoughts that might come after that. 

When he finally gives in and lets himself relax, Adam whispers something. It almost sounds like a song, not a sentence. _You make me want to be a better man._

What is he supposed to say to that? Nothing makes sense so he just lies there, letting Adam do what he wants. 

After a long while - so long that Tommy has almost fallen asleep - Adam finally stops stroking him, and gets up, digging through his bag for items he’s going to use. Tommy watches him, curious, but he doesn’t want to ask anything. Either Adam trusts himself or he stops. Tommy is not going to help him. 

There are one blue and one black silk tie, a bottle of lube, and what looks like a silicon dildo (not penis-shaped, thank god) in Adam’s hands once he’s done. He shows them to Tommy, and when Tommy doesn’t respond, Adam says, “You have to give me something or I won’t do anything.”

Tommy doesn’t want any responsibility. He wants to hide behind uncertainties and maybes. He doesn’t want to reach out and take. Adam is forcing him to do that, though. “Okay, yeah… fuck you,” he mutters against his arm, and Adam smiles. 

“That’s all?” Adam asks, and Tommy reaches for one of the pillows scattered around the bed and throws it at Adam who starts laughing. 

The sound feels good against Tommy’s skin. It makes him want to arch his body, makes him want to be desirable to Adam so he does what feels good, turning a little on his side, pushing his right knee up, and arching, his hands still holding the bed frame. His eyes are closed now because he can’t deal with rejection, that would kill him. He doesn’t have to wait for long in uncertainty because Adam is right beside him, touching his side, whispering words like _gorgeous, beautiful, mine, baby, oh my god…_ It’s a litany of words Tommy can’t follow, and he’s starting to realize how Adam is in bed, how he wants to control everything, but can’t because he just gets so overwhelmed. 

So Tommy is going to make it easier for Adam. “Tie me,” he says softly, and Adam brushes his palms over Tommy’s bare arms, then takes his hands and guides them to a more comfortable position, leaving Tommy’s shoulders relaxed. Adam uses one of the neckties for Tommy’s hands, and the other for his eyes. “Tell me to take them off if you start feeling weird,” Adam says and Tommy nods, knowing that he won’t say anything. 

“And Tommy?” 

He turns his face in Adam’s direction, but of course he can’t see anything. 

“I read you well, but your mind is weird so you need to tell me if something goes wrong. I trust you with that decision. I trust you to tell me.”

He bites his lip, because Adam is not only under his skin but in his head as well. Adam knows him, which strings to pull, how to manipulate him. So Tommy nods. 

“Say it, please,” Adam begs, pushing a strand of hair behind Tommy’s ear. “Please?”

“I promise to tell you if I feel weird.” His voice sounds raspy, and as though reading his mind, Adam brings a glass of water close to Tommy’s mouth and lets him drink. It feels good going down his throat and maybe that’s the thing that was missing because when Adam starts to undress him it doesn’t make him uncomfortable. On the contrary actually. He feels like he’s finally getting rid of something that’s restraining him, something unnatural. 

“So… I got to ask,” Adam says, “can I touch your dick too?”

Tommy lets out a startled laugh. “Yeah, you can touch my dick.”

Adam’s hand pushes between the mattress and Tommy’s body, his fingers circling around Tommy’s half-hard cock. “What if I want you to come without anyone touching your dick?” Adam says, cheeky, and this time, Tommy knows he’s in trouble. 

“You can do that too.”

“And what if I get carried away… Can I also spread you open and push into your delicious body?”

Tommy’s head is spinning. “Can we get back to that later?” He bites his cheek, waiting for Adam’s answer. 

Adam puts his hand over Tommy’s ass protectively. “We’ll do that,” he whispers. 

Then he kneels between Tommy’s thighs, spreads his legs further apart, as far as they go, and stays there, quiet. Tommy is sure he’s staring. 

“I can’t lie,” Adam says, his voice soft and warm. “I love you like this. Helpless, open. I promise to take care of you.”

And that’s just it, Adam doesn’t have to hurt him to break him. All Adam has to do is love him, and his walls come crumbling down. “Don’t be so sweet.”

Adam kisses the small of Tommy’s back. “I’ll be as sweet as I can be.”

“Fuck you.”

Adam strokes Tommy’s sides, his back and shoulders, then slides his hands down to Tommy’s ass. “Speak more of those pretty words to me.” Adam’s voice is full of quiet laughter. 

“I hate you,” Tommy mumbles, hiding his face. 

Adam’s fingers slide down his thighs, then back up to his balls and hole. “You love me,” Adam whispers against Tommy’s skin. 

Then Adam sits up again, and there’s the sound of the bottle top opening and Adam wiping his hands together. Adam is careful with him, very gentle and slow, so different from what happened in the bathroom. Adam touches him everywhere, spreading the lube around his hole but never pushing in, not once. “You’re so tiny. I’m not sure if I can fit anything in you,” Adam says, his thumbs spreading Tommy wider. 

Tommy groans when Adam brushes a wet finger over his hole, does it again and again until it’s just too much and Tommy tries to get away from the sensation, then moves his hips back because he wants Adam to touch him. He’s losing it. 

Very slowly, Adam slides one finger inside Tommy, stopping every time Tommy makes a sound or jerks his hips. It’s sweet torture, and when he’s all the way down to a knuckle, Tommy is sweating, trying to hold still, scared shitless suddenly. 

“She said I’m a fucking fag,” Tommy says even though he didn’t mean to. Adam is pushing him towards insanity, and he can’t hold it in. 

“You’re the prettiest one I’ve ever seen if you are,” Adam says, touching Tommy everywhere with his free hand. 

“It was an insult.” He groans because Adam twists the finger and pulls it out, slowly, slowly, then presses it in again. “Because I’m so fucking wrong about everything, in every fucking way.”

“Because you’re prettier than her, in every fucking way?” 

“No.” He takes a breath, says the word again when Adam pulls his finger almost entirely out and eases it in with another one next to it. The fullness makes Tommy curl his toes and tilt his head down, his neck arching. “I want you to gag me, too.” He doesn’t want to talk, doesn’t want to share this with Adam. 

Adam rubs his cheek against Tommy’s thigh, then kisses one of his ass cheeks. “I won’t, baby.”

“Fuck!” Adam adds a third finger, and it does fit but it’s tight, so tight, and Tommy can’t stay quiet. He cries out, feels tears in his eyes under the blindfold. “Don’t make me talk.”

Adam pulls his fingers out as gently as he can, then leans over Tommy, brings some of his weight down, grounding Tommy. “You don’t have to talk,” he whispers in Tommy’s ear, kissing the skin behind it. “I don’t expect you to do anything. If you don’t want something, it’s okay. But I won’t gag you because you can’t tell me how you feel if I do. I need to know.”

He rolls his hips under Adam, feels how hard Adam is, and wonders how Adam would feel inside him. “Just do it,” he says, angry all of a sudden, not caring how it makes him sound. 

“Do what, Tommy?” Adam bites his earlobe. 

“Fuck me, finger me, suck me, whatever it is that you want to do to me. Do it.”

“Do you want it? Do you want me to make you come untouched?”

Tommy squirms under Adam, frustrated. 

“Tell me you want it, and I’ll do it. Tell me you can take it, and I’ll do it.”

“I can take it,” he says, and for the first time, he knows it’s true. He’s fucked up, but not enough to be a basket case. He’s still himself. “I can take you.”

Adam smiles against Tommy’s hair. “I knew you could.”

Adam is thorough and slow and such a fucking tease he drives Tommy insane. It takes Adam at least half an hour to even get to the part where he’s filling Tommy with the dildo, and even that is slow and teasing. 

Tommy curses Adam, lets him know in what creative ways he’s going to strangle Adam if he doesn’t do _something_ about the insane ache in Tommy’s body, the desire to be pushed over the brink. He needs Adam. 

And then Adam is right there, lying on top of him, telling Tommy how gorgeous he is and breaching Tommy’s body with tiny vicious jerks, making him breathe in and never out. And when he comes, it’s without a touch, Adam’s hands in Tommy’s hair, being gentle and warm. 

It’s quiet for a long while afterwards. 

Then Adam kisses his cheek and says, “I love you a little... more than I dare. Just so you know if it’s not clear.”

It’s clear. He’s always known. 

“And it’s not because you’re pretty,” Adam continues, and that makes Tommy laugh. “Or because you’re a rockstar, _my_ rockstar. It’s because you’re uniquely you. You fit here. That’s why.”

“I’m awful with relationships,” Tommy finally says, and Adam is quiet for too long. 

When he speaks, Tommy can barely hear him. “It’s because you’ve been with the wrong people.”

Tommy huffs. “You mean girls?”

“No. Just wrong people. They don’t know what your _fuck you_ means.”

“And you do?” 

Adam takes off the blindfold and releases Tommy’s hands, but stays inside him, wrapping Tommy in his warmth. “I’m willing to learn.”

That’s the difference. Nobody has ever been willing to learn his hidden languages. He’s not an open book. He can’t be. He doesn’t know how to interpret his inner world to others. Every time he’s tried, he has failed. People give up. 

Adam kisses Tommy’s temple, his lips soft. “I need a little help in reading you.”

“I’ll help you,” Tommy says quietly, and Adam presses even closer to him. He’s Adam’s now, or maybe he has always been Adam’s. Either way, he’s finally willing to admit it.


End file.
